


Functional Adults

by eeyore9990



Series: 30 Thankful Days (2016) [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek Comes Back, First Kiss, M/M, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-29 08:34:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8482687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eeyore9990/pseuds/eeyore9990
Summary: It's been a few years since Stiles last saw Derek with his shirt off.  Apparently, a lot has changed.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [enablelove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/enablelove/gifts).



> 30 Thankful Days, Day 5: Gift for enablelove.

Stiles stepped into Derek's new apartment, a badly-wrapped housewarming gift tucked under his arm. He followed the sound of Derek's voice to the doorway of the kitchen where he stumbled to a stop and just… stared. He honestly couldn't do anything else because he'd _seen_ this before, this exact scenario had played out so often in the past that it shouldn't faze him a bit anymore. Derek being shirtless was just his entire high school memory of any day ending in y. But he was. He was _so_ fazed because the image was just the slightest bit different.

Well. Slight was probably the wrong word, but… he was rambling. He'd been reduced to rambling inside his own thoughts by what he was seeing. 

Shaking his head in an attempt to clear it, he stepped forward, his feet scuffling a little across the floor. Derek turned from the stove where he was making his dinner -- some kind of effortlessly healthy stir-fry with bell peppers and snap peas and chicken, the giant dork -- to arch an eyebrow at Stiles.

"What's that look for?" Derek asked, nose giving a little twitch before he turned back to poke attentively at his pan of sizzling food.

"When…?" Stiles couldn't even get the words out, just stepped close enough to touch and let his questing fingers ask his unvoiced questions, the present falling with a thunk to the immaculate countertop.

The triskelion tattoo was still there, in pride of place spread out across Derek's muscular back, but sometime over the past two years, Derek had added to it. Threaded through the spiraling arms of the tattoo was a green vine which stood out in stark relief against a vivid red and orange background of stylized flames and trailed down to wrap around the stump of an old, familiar tree. The Nemeton. Stiles' fingers curled under before they could touch the faded, brown stump but he leaned forward, squinting, because it looked like…

Yes. There was new life growing from the center of the dead stump, a tiny green shoot, so fragile and pale looking beside the strong, green vine that wrapped around the base of the stump and ended in a pale, purple bloom done in watercolor style.

Wolfsbane.

Stiles's eyes darted over the picture, seeing new details everywhere: black lines of smoke and ash, a pair of luminous cat eyes peering out of flames that were held back by a circle of what appeared to be shards of ice. His throat tightened, making his next breath hard to take, turning it into a gasp as his eyes burned with unshed tears. 

The triskelion had been turned into a tapestry dedicated to the pack Derek had lost, and it was… heartbreaking.

Derek turned around again, brow furrowed as he lifted his hands, taking Stiles' shoulders into a firm grip. "What's wrong? Stiles?"

But Stiles couldn't say anything, eyes caught on Derek's chest and the artwork captured _there._ This was… different, black and white and shades of grey with the exception of a tiny splash of red. Across Derek's ribs was a large compass, the needle -- containing the only bit of color -- pointing south, chains wrapped around it that ended in an anchor which swung out over Derek's stomach. Flying across his chest, obviously taking off from the edge of the compass, was a bird, some sort of falcon from all appearances.

"When…?" Stiles reached out, trailing his finger along the curves of the S. It was kind of a weird thought, but the shape of the letter could have been written by Stiles it so perfectly matched his handwriting. "When did you get this? Jesus, Derek, did you take a fucking _torch_ to yourself again?"

"What?" Derek looked down, appearing bemused before he shook his head. "No, I got -- well, I got the piece on my back done before I left. During that whole deadpool thing. I was trying to come to terms with being human and that seemed fitting."

"I think you meant morbid, but okay," Stiles muttered, still mindlessly tracing the S with one finger.

Derek's muscles clenched under his finger, and Stiles snatched it back, feeling his face burn hot with a flush. 

"Sorry, I…"

"No, it's--" Derek let out a little cough and shrugged. "It's fine."

"When did you do this one?"

Derek's lips quirked in a small grin. "That one took a few visits. I had it done during the eclipses over the last few years. Had to do just a little at a time, but it worked. It's finally done."

Stiles stared at him. "You're telling me you finally had a chance to do something fun like get drunk, and you wasted it to have some big bald dude poke you a million times with a needle? Ugh, loser."

Derek's lips twitched and he shook his head. "You and I have very different ideas about fun. What about me makes you think I'd want to do anything to impair my judgement?"

Scratching at his chin, Stiles just shrugged. Then he saw the present he'd brought out of the corner of his eye and said, "Oh! Hey, sorry I missed the party this weekend. Being a broke college student who has to work to eat really cuts into my social life." He picked up the gift and handed it to Derek, who frowned down at it.

"Stiles, you didn't have to--"

"Shut up and take it," Stiles sang out, prodding Derek's new tattoo with the sharp corner of the box.

"Ow, cut that out. Fine! Jesus, it's nice to see nothing's changed; you're still annoying."

"Oh, hey, and you're still a humorless asshole!" Stiles nibbled on his thumb, then said, "Well?! Open it!"

Derek raised an eyebrow but carefully, and s-l-o-w-l-y, ugh, peeled back the tape and opened the paper, looking surprised to find a plain brown box underneath. "It's lovely," he murmured, smirking up at Stiles, his eyes glittering with humor from behind his ridiculous lashes. "You shouldn't have. It'll be perfect on the coffee table." 

"Shut up and open the box, dickhead."

"Ohh, clever comeback." But for all his teasing, Derek did open the box, and with a lot more speed. From the box, he pulled a red t shirt, upon which were the words **Functional Adult** in bold, neon purple comic sans.

Stiles fell back, cackling at the way Derek's expression immediately went pinched and surly. "I found a place that makes t shirts to order and…" He sputtered out a giggle. "I couldn't have planned this better, honestly. Put it on, dude. Cover that shit up," he added with a snort. "No one wants to see all that."

Derek, already half into the shirt because of course he was, went still for a second before popping his head through the neck hole and spearing Stiles with a look. "You know I can still hear lies, right?"

"Huh?" Stiles asked, gaze caught on where Derek was still holding the bottom hem of the shirt up over his tattoo. "What's that?"

"You just lied," Derek said, the words almost soft.

Stiles blinked, then shrugged, befuddled. "No idea what you're--"

"You said, 'no one wants to see all that,' and it was a lie." Derek stepped closer, tugging the shirt down. "You want to see _all this,_ Stiles?" Derek asked, his voice dropping low and gentle, a little husky.

"Uhh." Stiles coughed to clear his throat. "I mean. I just--"

"You want me to take the shirt back off, Stiles?" Derek stepped forward again, herding Stiles across the kitchen.

"No? I mean. Do what you want." 

"Lie." Derek's smile was sharp, all wolf. "Why do you want me to take off the shirt, Stiles?"

Stiles' tongue felt glued to the roof of his mouth before a thought occurred that filled him with a sense of triumph. "I really like your tattoo," he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Derek slowly, teasingly -- reminiscent of his present unwrapping skills -- lifted the hem of his shirt, letting his own fingers skim around the arm of the anchor that curled up under his belly button. "Yeah? You like it? Which part do you like best?"

Stiles narrowed his gaze, studying Derek for a long moment before he realized Derek was actually, honestly _flirting_ with him. Once that realization hit, he surged forward, helping Derek scootch the t shirt up higher and dragged his fingernail along the S again. "The part I like best is that you tattooed me into your skin."

Derek's eyes went dark and he nodded, slowly lowering his head, a question in his expression that Stiles answered by closing the distance between them. When their lips were almost touching, Stiles whispered, "I'm not getting your name tattooed on me."

"Good. If anyone's going to mark that beautiful skin, I want it to be me," Derek murmured, his tongue licking over Stiles' bottom lip almost before the words were completely out of his mouth.

Stiles made a noise that could have been agreement or just a sound of pure, long-awaited relief, hands covering the tattoos on Derek's back as they kissed for so long that Derek eventually just put the cold stir fry in the fridge and ordered them pizza … to share.

**Author's Note:**

> So, the tattoo on his ribs/chest is like this, but with chains vs branches and a falcon instead of a dove: 
> 
>  


End file.
